


Big Iron

by dislocatedshoulder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bandits & Outlaws, Brothels, California, F/F, F/M, Guns, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Outlaw Castiel (Supernatural), Police Sheriff Dean Winchester, Wild West Sheriff Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:07:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26006182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dislocatedshoulder/pseuds/dislocatedshoulder
Summary: Dean Winchester is the sheriff in Bodie, California, and up and coming gold mining town. Riddled with brothels and opium dens. A place where violent crimes were not rare, and murders were frequent. One day Dean gets a tip about a wanted outlaw that was squatting in an abandoned mineshaft a few miles outside of Bodie. He sends out to go track down the outlaw and arrest him, but things go haywire and unexpected.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester





	Big Iron

_Bodie, California, May 1877._

_(Disclaimer: Bodie, California is a real place but the way it’s depicted in this book is incorrect.)_

Sheriff Winchester laid back in his desk chair, boot-clad feet propped comfortably upon his wooden desk. His sitting position allowed him to stretch out his tired legs, relaxing in the feeling of his muscles loosening. The Sheriff is slowly recovering from his shift. Fighting crime is taking a toll. 

Dean looked out the square window that loomed on the wall in front of him. Now that the sunset shifted to the night sky, the city was booming. Small gangs of friends joined each other at the saloon, lights from the top floor brothel windows illuminated the growing city. Stragglers from all around tended to their horses around the stables before disappearing into a small motel. 

Drunks paraded the cobblestone streets, shouting crude jokes and an array of curse words. 

There were two sides to the vast city. The rich had streets decorated with mansions clad with marble pillars and red brick walls. A great number of stores ranging from personal tailors, clothing stores with expensive jackets that cost more than the Sheriffs’ life, saloons with multiple stories, brothels with more rooms than a house lined the streets of Bodie, California. They had stables that housed elegant horses that were not to be ridden but to be looked at. People on that side of town rode in carriages, not on horses. Most residents didn’t work. Many scored back in the 60s when there was a gold rush. They used the money from the gold to invest in business inside of Bodie. Others grew up rich and inherited their parents’ wealth. Lots of wealthy people believed that building an elegant large house in an up and coming gold mining town would be an interesting experience. 

The poor side is a whole different story. The houses and buildings built in the dusty, stinky, stuffy side of town are at least a decade older than the new rich buildings. Those streets were dirt and sand which is why the air quality was poor, causing the citizens to develop terrible respiratory issues. The life expectancy on the south side of town was lower than thirty when in the north side the life expectancy is a little over fifty. 

The buildings were made of wood. The floors were dirt. But if the resident was lucky they could score a wooden floor in their house. Most houses only had one room, an uncomfortable bed stuffed in one corner. A small stove in another. Maybe a sturdy handmade wooden chair. Decoration in houses in that area was very rare. Most people didn’t have money for that kind of luxury. The Southside had the highest crime rate in Bodie. Dean always found himself in the Southside with one of his deputies chasing some crook down the dirt road. 

Dean wasn’t rich. He never had been. He grew up hunting food so he could feed himself and his brother. They spent winters in Kansas sleeping on cowhide, wrapped up in wool blankets that have been in the Winchester family for generations because it’s all they could afford. Dean occupied his days by walking through the woods, knee-deep in the snow to look for firewood. They spent summers with their windows open as far as they possibly could, stripped down to their socks to prevent overheating. Once their farm burnt down in 1874, the brothers’ went their separate ways. Sam went off to New York to study law while Dean moved to California in an attempt to strike big in a gold mine.

This town, however, had a secret. Every resident was in on it, but outsiders had no idea. If one were to ride through the town, stay the night to get some sleep, grab some grub in the morning, they'd be clueless. But if one were to buy land in the city limits, settle in and pay close attention, the secret would reveal itself. And if one were to expose this secret to an outsider, both of them would be privately executed. 

So what's the secret? Imagine a city, already booming with curious and ambitious life. Now imagine it with magic, creatures only known to man as a myth. That's Bodie, California. Blessed with existence and magic. 

The Sheriff hadn't been aware of the special situation in Bodie, but he quickly adapted. He became close friends with a peaceful vampire who calls himself Benny. He sported a heavy southern Louisiana accent that the Sheriff took quite a liking to. There was also a witch, goes by Rowena. She’s an intense redhead. Scares the life out of Dean and has tried to kill him more than once. He doesn’t know if they’re friends or enemies. 

As a Sheriff in a magical city, police work had its differences. It’s not drug busts or robberies. It’s beheading rogue vampires, burning the remains of century-old bodies to expel their vengeful spirit. There were robberies and other petty crimes occasionally but Dean left those to his deputies. The Southside was the most likely to house rogue vampires or a witch who was using her magic to curse. The poor weren’t able to afford quality food to quench the thirst of being a vampire or the sort. So, hungry, desperate vampires will kill a poor straggler, who was just trying to get home. And Bodie has a strict “No Eating Humans” rule. It kept Pinkertons from sniffing around. 

Dean had no idea how long he had been staring out his window. But the city wasn’t as alive as it was when he began to look, so it could have been hours. Dean kicks his feet off the desk in front of him and realises his entire lower half was asleep, now tingling awake. He sighed quietly and reached for his pipe that was resting carefully on its side. Dean wasn’t sure what kind of wood it was made out of but considering the beautiful, murky red that filled the entirety of the pipe, Dean assumed it was garnished. It was certainly a beautiful object though. The Sheriff packed a moderate amount of sweet-smelling tobacco before he stuck a match and took a long inhale from the tip of the pipe. The smoke burned his throat a bit, but it was a soothing burn. He stood up from his uncomfortable chair, stretched his legs, which were so stiff from sitting as long as he had, grabbed his hat, fastened it on his head, and he was off. 

He didn’t live too far from the station. Maybe a block or two. He’s been living in Bodie for around three years, and even though he didn’t strike gold, literally, he accumulated a sort of wealth within that time. He found himself, Bounty Hunting, quite often. None of the outlaws he captured were hungry vampires trying to kill him for his blood. Or a demon with a plan to torture information out of any random person walking the streets _for fun._

The highest bounty he had collected since arriving in Bodie was two thousand dollars, plus some. The man he was hunting down had killed many innocent civilians in an attempt to rob a train. He thought it was a cargo train, stocked to the brim with firearms, ammunition, food, clothes. Anything a simple man could wish for. But he was illiterate, so he got the wrong time and ended up jumping a passenger train. The train crashed after he killed the conductor and many people suffered terminal wounds. He still managed to slip away from Pinkertons. When Dean heard there was a two thousand dollar reward out for the outlaw Dean dropped everything, asked Benny to take over at the Sheriff’s office until he returned, and was on his way, looking for the scum of man. Dean enjoyed hogtying the man and slipping him on the back of his horse. 

His house wasn’t elegant and obnoxiously huge like the others on his block, but it could house more than one person. It was a two-story house that was surrounded by a fence that was a few inches taller than Dean. The outside was a cobblestone, Dean put together himself when he moved from the Southside. The stones ranged in many colours. Some red, some white, grey, black. It was undoubtedly a beautiful combination, Dean would always pat himself on the back for that. 

Due to the lack of decoration he had his whole life, Dean went a little overboard when it came to furnishing his interior. Walking inside the front door, you’re welcomed by a staircase leaning up against the wall, it’s spiral but not thin and hard to walk up, it just turns as you go up. In the gap between the wall leading to the parlour and the staircase was a small circular table. On top of it sat a Phonograph, something that just was patented. It was a gadget that played music. Dean loved it. 

Dean passed the Phonograph and walked to his back door, leading to his stables. He only owned one horse because that was all he needed. He adopted his horse in 1874. He stopped in a small town when he was on a train to California after his farm burnt down. The train tickets were getting too expensive so he decided he’d get a horse. Lucky for him, the small, dusty town had five buildings. Two houses, a saloon, a general store and a ranch with a stable. According to the man who sold Dean the tall, elegant, black-as-night horse, his name was Bones. This name became rather ironic. 

The stables were in his backyard, a space not too big, but big enough for Bones to move around comfortably. Dean walked over to his horse, his steps quick and eager. He always misses his horse after a long day of work. 

When Dean got near the stable he could only catch a glimpse of Bones’ outline. He was laying in the grass, but Dean couldn’t tell if he was awake or not. He wasn’t wearing his saddle though, Dean never keeps it on him unless he’s riding. Even though he didn’t want to disturb the possible sound slumber his horse might be in, Dean walked over to the creature. Once he was close enough, the moon’s light shined brightly on the animal’s skeletal figure. And skeletal in the literal sense. Dean’s horse was nothing but bone. 

The rancher that Dean bought the horse from didn’t know the previous owner. But Dean confided in Rowena after the incident up in the mountains. Dean and Bones had gotten lost in the mountains in January of 1875. A blizzard ravaged the area, causing Bones to die of exposure. Dean feared for his life, not only was his best friend dead but now he had no means of transportation. How would he get off the mountains before he froze to the earth? 

Strange enough, when Dean woke up the morning later, Bones was alive. Deathly cold, yes, but alive. He freaked out at first, blaming the delusion on the fact he was probably dead and Bones and he were in his personal hell, even so, he made the excruciating trek back to Bodie. He instantly hid Bones in his stable and ran over to Rowena’s Fortune Telling shop. Once she was at Deans disposal he told her everything, how Bones had died and was alive by morning, how he’s smelly and decaying. Rowena simply laughed at Dean’s frantic body language. She explained that Bones was probably owned by a witch at some point and was given an immortality charm, but when the witch died her charm wore off, but not to a full extent. Bones is technically undead. 

The worst thing about Bones’ charm was the decomposing. He decomposed in front of Dean’s eyes. Skin falling off, eyes melting, everything went, his skeleton was the only thing marking his existence. Dean wasn’t sure if Bones was in pain during his decomposing phase, but he did everything he could to make sure his pride and joy was as comfortable as a decomposing creature could be. 

Once the decomposition was done and Bones was all bones, Dean was able to get a good look at the skeleton of the horse. Bones had almost every sort of wound a living being could have. Poorly healed broken bones, knicks in his bones from possible stabbings, bullet holes in multiple ribs, and one in the top of his skull. When Dean saw that his stomach churned. The witch that owned him must’ve used him as a shield while they were doing dangerous tasks. Dean vowed to himself that he would never treat Bones like that. He was a living creature, undead or not, he still could feel things. 

Dean patted Bones’ skull and said his goodnights to the horse and walked back inside. His house was at already muggy from the May heat. He stripped himself of his clothes on his way up the stairs. He removed his cotton, buttoned-up coat, throwing it carelessly off to the side. Dean couldn’t help but curse the uniforms they’re forced to wear. Underneath his coat was a brown long sleeve shirt. Sweat stains soaked his armpits and the small of his back. He rolled into his bed once he slipped out of his pants. The feeling of the slight draft on his bare skin sent chills up his body. Dean didn’t even bother to cover himself with a sheet. 

* * *

Dean woke to the rumble of the streets. The sound of carriages and horse hooves had become his alarm every morning since he moved to the Northside. The Sheriff rubbed the sleep from his green eyes. His limbs were sore from the day before, from working so hard. Dean struggled to get up, but once he managed, he walked over to to the wooden wardrobe stuffed with clothing. He didn’t work so he had the whole day to walk around the Northside, meet up with some friends, get something to drink. Dean pulled a brown, thin, cotton long sleeve off a hanger and pulled it over his head. Without closing the wardrobe Dean opened the drawer near the bottom, blindly picked a pair of jeans. 

The time on Deans stopwatch read 7:45 but the streets were alive once again. He had no idea where he wanted to go. He could walk around the Red Light District so he could chat with his friends. He could visit Rowena in her fortune-telling shop. He could visit Benny in his saloon/restaurant. He had so many choices. Dean sighed loudly before he made his way to the stables in his backyard. He only rode Bones around Bodie. Riding Bones around the rest of California would raise some eyebrows. 

Bones was already awake when Dean approached him, huffing with excitement. “Hey buddy,” Dean chirped, his voice an octave higher. “Good morning to you too.” He patted the top of Bones’ boney head. Dean fed him, saddled him up, and the two were ready for a day out in town.

Dean had decided to go stop at a brothel just outside the Red Light District. Bodie was a very progressive town, considering witchcraft didn’t get you hanged. So a gay brothel wasn’t uncommon, nor frowned upon. It wasn’t just open with sexuality, Bodie was extremely diverse, women and any person of colour were seen equal in the eyes of Bodie citizens. Dean was happy to be part of a city as progressive as Bodie. 

A few of Dean’s good friends worked at a gay brothel just five minutes away from Dean’s house. He often loiters around there, he’s not a paying customer. What would citizens think if the cities Sheriff was a buying customer at a brothel? He gets there quickly and hitched Bones on a post outside the building. It’s not busy for it only being 8:00. Brothels get much busier during the night when drunks find themselves horny. Dean staggered up the stairs, looking back at Bones for a second to make sure he’s comfortable. When satisfied he walks into the brothel. 

“Hey Sheriff,” He’s greeted by Lucifer, Luci for short. His parents were very religious Outlaws, but they didn’t worship God, they worshipped Lucifer. Dean thinks it’s better than being named God. Luci is dressed normally, a white undershirt and beat-up striped pants. Male prostitutes don’t dress nearly as promiscuous as female prostitutes, with their big beautiful dresses and eye-grabbing makeup. 

“Uh oh,” Gabriel speaks up, he’s the owner of the brothel. “What did one of my boys do now?” Gabriel seems a little on edge, but he knows Dean likes to hang around the brothel often, so he’s not too tense. 

Dean laughed. “Oh, you know your boys are always getting in trouble one way or another.” Gabriel’s features chillax all the way at Dean’s joke. “I’m just here to get a drink and talk to y’all.” The Sheriff walked over to the bar and plopped himself down on the leather cushion on the stool. “Just a beer,” he requested, dropping twenty cents on the wooden surface of the bar. The bartender took his money and swiped him a bottle of beer with a wink. 

“Did you hear about the Outlaw on the outskirts of town?” Luci sits down next to Dean, taking a quick swig of Dean’s beer. Dean glares at the man and aggressively takes his drink back.

“An Outlaw huh?” Dean asks. He normally just has to look at the bounty board in the police station. “He anyone important?”

“Oh yeah,” Luci answers, the excitement in his voice is prominent. “He was with that gang that tried to rob a whole city. Stupid ass gang if you ask me.” Dean nods, taking a long swig of his beer. A gang of about twenty members tired to rob a city thirty minutes outside of Bodie named Aurora. They were nearly successful, but they weren’t able to round up all the citizens and one was able to get away and contact the law. Most of the gang members were arrested and now await trial but a few got away. “I bet he’s got a big number on his head,” Luci reaches for Dean’s drink again with an ugly smirk on his face. The Sheriff slaps his hand away.

“Jesus just let me buy you a drink,” Dean huffs, tagging the bartender. Luci’s face lights up.

“Yeah, apparently the Outlaw is living in one of them abandoned gold mines from the 60s. Some folks riding into town saw him and recognised him from the wanted posters. My best guess is they’re from Aurora.” The bartender slides a beer over to Luci and he smiles before taking a long swig. Gulping the beer like it’s golden. Dean laughs at the ridiculous act. 

Luci was right though. That Outlaw probably had a good price on his head. The gang he was with was known for their despicable acts, murder, rape, robbery. You name any unlawful thing, someone from that gang has done it. 

Dean finishes his beer, gives his thanks to the bartender, says his goodbyes to Gabriel and Lucifer and he’s on his way.

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally going to make Lucifer a bad guy in this story but I decided i wanted to make him a snarky prostitute instead I thought that'd be more fun. Anyways, hope you enjoy!


End file.
